


time has brought your heart to me

by starkidpatronus



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Pendragon Returns, Emotionally Repressed, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Miscommunication, Prompt Fic, Reincarnation, Songfic, Sort Of, Tumblr Prompt, Unresolved Romantic Tension, this is probably actually a ga fic but i never know how to rate these things so just to be safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 05:05:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13139679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkidpatronus/pseuds/starkidpatronus
Summary: "And all along I believed I would find you."Arthur doesn't understand the cause of Merlin's sometimes erratic behavior, and at this rate, he's never going to figure it out.





	time has brought your heart to me

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! This was written off the prompt "I've just been thinking lately about how there are certain songs that the fandom associates with Merthur and Merlin waiting for Arthur (1000 years, long live, king and lionheart, etc), and that Merlin probably would relate to those songs, too. What if Arthur comes back and notices how Merlin avoids those songs? So he manages to look them up while Merlin's not looking and realizes how Merlin has felt waiting & how he feels about him?" This isn't totally that prompt, so I apologize to the original prompter, but I did my best to remain loyal to it.  
> I hope this turned out the way you wanted it to! <3

The first time it happened, Arthur thought little of it. Sure, it seemed weird when Merlin randomly said they had to leave “ _now”_ and dragged Arthur out of the bookstore. The bookstore was lovely; filled with old books and playing quiet music; Arthur hadn’t wanted to leave. But Merlin had always been weird, even regardless of his magic, so whatever; Arthur went along with it despite his disappointment.

The second time was a bit more of an eyebrow-raiser. They were at a dinner party one of Merlin’s friend’s was hosting. Merlin had demanded Arthur attend as Merlin’s plus one (“it’s like a date, but obviously, it’s not a date, you know”) so that Arthur could learn proper social skills. Arthur didn’t see why that was so urgent for him to know in his quest to save the world from ultimate destruction, as his return apparently signified. But Merlin had insisted. And anyways, Arthur had slayed beasts, for God’s sake; surely he could knock back a few glasses of wine and make small talk with Merlin’s friend’s friends.

The dinner part of the evening was over in about an hour and a half. Arthur had thought it would end there; after all, it was a _dinner_ party. But much to his dismay, people adjourned to the sitting room (“ _living_ room, Arthur”), turned on some music, and started to dance! Well, actually, _some_ of them started to dance—others gathered in small clumps around the room, chatting.

Arthur, of course, belonged to one of those latter clumps, doing his best to fit in around Merlin’s friends. When Merlin excused himself to use the restroom, Arthur only slightly panicked. He returned soon enough, anyways. But then, much to Arthur’s dismay _again_ , one of Merlin’s friends— _Edward_ —asked Merlin to dance.

Arthur’s face started to heat up as he watched Merlin blush and accept. His tongue worked the inside of his mouth, to keep it occupied, so he wouldn’t say something he’d later regret. He watched through squinted eyes as Merlin moved his body in rhythm with Edward’s. When Edward pulled Merlin close, looping his arms around Merlin’s neck, Arthur looked away and downed the rest of his drink.

“Ye could ask to cut in,” a voice to his left said.

Arthur looked over to see a redhead in a crop-top looking steadily back at him. “Pardon?”

“Cut in,” she repeated. “Ye know…ask to take his spot.”

“Whose spot?”

“Ye know whose spot.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The redhead scoffed. “Right.”

“Sorry, who are you again?” Arthur inquired, only caring a little how rude it sounded.

“My name’s Kit,” she introduced herself. “I play in Mike’s band.”

“Right.” Arthur vaguely remembered that Mike is the friend of Merlin who is hosting the event. He held out a hand to shake. “Arthur.”

“Wow, yer a hand-shaker,” Kit remarked with a smile as she shook Arthur’s hand. “All right.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“Back atcha’,” she replied, and Arthur finally pinned down her accent.

“Are you Irish, by any chance?”

“Aw, is it that obvious?” she inquired with a grin, exaggerating her accent for effect. Arthur laughed slightly. “Dublin, born and raised. Came to ole’ Great Britain to seek my fortune. How ‘bout yerself?”

“Er—” The panic started to rise in his stomach again, but he tamped it down. He knew where he and Merlin were, and, well, wherever he was with Merlin was home. Thus, he answered, “London.”

 “Ah, a city boy,” Kit proclaimed, that same crooked grin still on her face. “Must’ve been nice, growing up with the high life.”

"Something like that,” Arthur hedged.

“Well, city boy, I hope ye don’t mind me saying so,” Kit said, “but if ye don’t act fast, I think yer ‘bout to lose yer man.”

“He’s not my—”

“But don’t ye want him to be?”

Arthur didn’t answer, just looked at his feet and glowered.

“Look, it’s yer choice,” Kit continued, “but if it were me, I’d cut in.”

“How did you even know?” Arthur asked, genuinely curious.

“’Not hard to figure out,” Kit answered, “when ye’ve been glaring at the two of them this whole time, and ye came here with one of ‘em.”

 “You’ve got a lot of nerve,” Arthur stated evenly, “saying all this to someone you don’t even know.”

“Are ye sure ‘bout that?” Kit questioned. Arthur looked at her suddenly, and she didn’t waver under his gaze. As he looked at her, he thought he saw a brief flash of someone else, someone who—but no. No, as soon as he had it, he lost it. Apparently she recognized this, for she smiled and told him, “It’s all right, Arthur. Ye’ll get there in time. I’ll see ye around.”

With that, she left, leaving Arthur with nothing but her advice. Advice which, after another song and another drink, Arthur took.

He did it without thinking, because whenever Arthur thought about these things, he screwed them up, always, every time. So he went in, all instinct, and tapped Edward on the shoulder. He turned around questioningly, and Arthur said, “Do you mind if I cut in?”

If Edward was surprised, he didn’t show it. “Not at all!” he responded, ever easygoing. He turned to Merlin and said, “See you around, mate.” With that, he departed, melting back into the crowd of partygoers. Arthur picked up where Edward left off, dancing with Merlin, who was looking rather miffed.

“Well, I mind!” he protested.

Arthur ignored the way his heart sank, saying, “Aw, come on; don’t act like you haven’t been watching me all night.” He winked at Merlin, and Merlin rolled his eyes in response.

“What do you want, Arthur?”

“I think that’s rather evident: A dance.”

“Arthur, come on; what’s wrong?”

“Why does something have to be wrong?”

“Because something’s always wrong whenever you act weird!”

“How am I acting weird?”

“By dancing with me,” Merlin retorted through gritted teeth. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong!” Arthur exclaimed.

“Then why do you want to dance with me all of a sudden?”

“Merlin, has it occurred to you that maybe why I want to dance with you is because I—”

The song changed abruptly, suddenly a slow song. They both froze, unsure of how to approach this particular situation. But when Arthur went to put his hands on Merlin’s waist, Merlin jumped out of his grasp, looking frantic.

“Merlin?” Arthur attempted to make eye contact, but Merlin was looking everywhere but at him. “Merlin, look at me.” Still, he refused to meet Arthur’s gaze. “Merlin, what’s wrong?”

“We have to go,” Merlin declared, abruptly leaving Arthur on the dancefloor. Arthur stood there for a moment, before quickly following Merlin. By the time he caught up with him, Merlin was already picking their coats up off of their chairs from the dinner. He threw Arthur’s at him, then started pulling his own on, hastily working on the buttons. Arthur ignored his own coat, urgently trying to get Merlin’s attention.

“Merlin, what are you—why do we have to—Merlin, could you stop for a minute; I—Merlin, could you please just _look_ at me for a second?”

Merlin did look at him then, eyes wild and teary, and Arthur, for the life of him, couldn’t understand why. Slowly, gently, he took one of Merlin’s hands in his own. “Merlin…” he said softly, as one approaching a wild animal might. “What’s wrong?”

Merlin looked down at his hand in Arthur’s, not pulling away, but not reciprocating either. They could still hear the faint sound of the slow song playing from the other room—“ _all of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow_ ,” the singer distantly croons. For a moment, they were the only two people in the world.

And then Merlin yanked his hand out of Arthur’s grasp, saying firmly, “We need to _go_. Right now.”

Arthur sighed; clearly, he wasn’t going to get anywhere tonight—with any of this. “All right,” he acquiesced, shrugging his coat on and letting Merlin zip it up. “Let’s go.”

Merlin practically ran out the door, not even bothering to look for Mike to say goodbye, dead-set on vacating the premises.

When Arthur tried to bring up the dancing in the cab, Merlin begged him to let them not talk about it. Arthur immediately relented; whatever Merlin wanted, of course. Which was apparently not Arthur. He looked out the window, away from Merlin, swallowing down the lump in his throat.

The third time it happened, Arthur was officially suspicious.

They were sitting in the waiting room of a dentist, which is apparently a doctor for teeth, because apparently when people get toothaches in the modern world, they don’t just drink extra alcohol to numb the pain until it goes away.

. Arthur sat next to Merlin, who was reading a magazine. Arthur busied himself by looking around at their surroundings. The room was comfortable enough, well-furnished with cushioned seats and not too hot or cold. The light was a bit glaring, but not enough for Arthur to really be irritated by it. The receptionist sat at his desk, typing away on his computer—something that still freaked Arthur out a bit. A cup full of pens sat to his right; he had handed one to Merlin so he could fill out Arthur’s forms when they had come in. The music playing was loud enough to make out the words if you listened, but not loud enough to be invasive. At the moment, some song about a birthday and heartbreak was playing. When Arthur thought about it, there seemed to be a lot of those these days.

He leaned over Merlin’s shoulder to look at the magazine and asked, “What’re you reading?”

“An article,” Merlin answered, not looking up.

“What’s it about?”

“The glaciers melting.”

“Is that that—climate thing you were telling me about?”

“Climate change, yes.”

“Cool. I mean—not cool.” Then, he thought about it, and grinned in spite of himself. “In more ways than one.”

Merlin just rolled his eyes and sighed, turning the page. “You’re so clever, Arthur.”

“I agree; my wit really is unmatched.”

“It’d be hard to match something so low.”

Arthur let out a guffaw at that, punching Merlin lightly on the arm. Merlin merely smiled wryly in response, shaking his head. God, he’d missed this.

“Hey,” he said softly, and Merlin turned his head to look at him. Arthur found himself a little tongue-tied at how blue Merlin’s eyes were, but forced himself to say, “I really missed you, you know.”

Merlin smiled then, _really_ smiled, with teeth and everything, and Arthur’s heart did that thing it was always wont to do when Merlin smiled—sort of flipped over and stopped, then kicked into high-gear. If pushed, he would say more. Merlin would only have to give the indication that he wanted to hear it. For a minute, it looked like he did. But then, randomly, he tensed up and looked away, saying, “I have to use the restroom.”

“What?” Arthur said, utterly baffled by the mood shift as Merlin stood up. Trying to get him to stay, Arthur asked, “What if they come in and get me?”

“Then you’ll go in with them,” Merlin answered easily, putting his magazine down on his chair. “I’ll only be gone a minute; you’ll survive.”

With that, Merlin left. Arthur had half a mind to call out to him, “Don’t count on it!” But he didn’t, not wanting to disturb the receptionist.

Instead, Arthur picked up Merlin’s magazine and started to read the glaciers article, only to be distracted by the song that was playing picking up in intensity and string chords. “ _One step closer…”_

Suddenly, Arthur realized this was the same song that had been playing when Merlin had demanded they leave the party. And, if he thought hard about it, he was pretty sure he could remember it playing in the bookstore when he demanded they leave there, too. And now, conveniently, Merlin had escaped to the loo once it started playing.

Merlin had to have some sort of problem with the song, some horrible aversion to it. Arthur couldn’t understand why; every piece of it he’d heard so far was perfectly agreeable. Arthur couldn’t quite piece it all together, listening to it in this disjointed way, but he could tell it was a love song. It was likely about longing for someone, and there were a million songs like that, so Arthur didn’t get why Merlin apparently so hated this one.

He waited for Merlin’s return—sure enough, he came out of the bathroom as soon as the song stopped playing—and asked, “Merlin, why do you hate this song?”

“What?” Merlin said, looking at Arthur sharply. “What are you talking about? I don’t hate it. I don’t even know what you’re talking about. What song?”

“If you don’t know what I’m talking about, how can you know you don’t hate it?”

“What song are you talking about, Arthur?”

“The one that always makes you say we have to leave places! Or makes you go to the loo until it ends.”

“I don’t—”

“Merlin, _please_.”

Merlin met his gaze, and Arthur searched his face for any clue about what he might be feeling. But Merlin was guarded, and when Merlin was guarded, he was _guarded,_ even to Arthur. There was a brief moment of weakness—a flash of something—but it was too quick for Arthur to make out what it was. Maybe…resignation?

“Arthur,” Merlin said, looking down at his hands, “have you even listened to the song?”

“No,” Arthur answered. “I mean—yes, but only in the bits and pieces I’ve been able to hear before you rush us out of places.”

“Didn’t you listen just now?”

“No, I couldn’t really make out all of the words,” he explained. “’Not the best listening experience in here. Why?”

Merlin shook his head, mouth a straight line. “Nothing,” he answered, and, oh, there was _definite_ resignation there. “Never mind. Just forget about it, Arthur.”

“But—”

“I said,” he cut Arthur off, looking harshly at him, jaw set, “forget about it.” They looked at each other for a beat more, Merlin unwavering and Arthur utterly lost, before Merlin turned away, saying, “I’m going to ask the receptionist what’s taking so long.”

He stood up and walked over to the front desk, leaving Arthur more confused than ever.

***

The next day, while Merlin was at work, Arthur looked up the song with the few lyrics he’d managed to memorize. Still somewhat scared of the computer, he approached it with caution, but like the brave king he was, typed the words into the google search-box and hit “enter.” He found a YouTube video that apparently matched the song, which was apparently called “A Thousand Years.” He sat back, closed his eyes, and listened to it as it played.

By the end of the song, Arthur had tears rolling down his cheeks. Because, oh God, oh _God_ , of course. Of bloody _course_.

He spared himself a second to shout and jump up with joy at what this meant, and then set to work.

When Merlin came home, laden with grocery bags, he was already calling out to Arthur, “I got that pasta you like; the bowtie, you know? And—”

He stopped dead in his tracks at what he saw once he looked.

Because Arthur had brought the little round table out of the kitchen and into the living room, and set it with a white tablecloth, cutlery, and candles. A single red rose in a vase sat in the middle of the table, and two chairs were on either side. There were even rose petals leading from the door to the table, which Arthur was standing next to, holding a bottle of champagne. Merlin looked from Arthur, to the table, to the rose petal path, back to Arthur, and asked blankly, “What the hell are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Arthur tossed back, smiling.

“I—I don’t know; that’s why I asked.”

“I’m confessing my undying love for you,” Arthur stated squarely, setting the champagne bottle down on the table and taking a couple steps towards Merlin.

“Can you be serious for a second?” Merlin requested, looking at his wit’s end.

“I am being serious,” Arthur countered, still advancing towards Merlin, who was looking more confused and frightened by the second. “Merlin, I am hopelessly, pathetically, desperately, irretrievably in love with you. I have been for longer than I care to admit. And now that I know you feel the same way, I will not remain silent about it any longer.”

“I never said I feel the same way,” Merlin pointed out, now backed up against the wall.

“You didn’t have to,” Arthur told him. “The song said it for you.”

“What song?”

“Don’t play dumb, Merlin.”

“Who says I’m playing?”

“Me.”

“Your evidence?”

“ _I have died every day waiting for you,_ ” he sang, and Merlin looked away, the tips of his ears going red. Smiling, Arthur gently placed his index finger on Merlin’s chin and turned his head lightly so they were looking at each other again, continuing, “ _Darling, don’t be afraid, I have loved you for a thousand years.”_

“Shut up, Arthur,” Merlin ordered, yanking Arthur in by the back of his neck and furiously kissing him.

Arthur didn’t need to be told twice. He ceased talking, focusing all his efforts on kissing Merlin back just as hard. He didn’t know how slow Merlin wanted to take it, but his answer came in the form of Merlin shoving his tongue in Arthur’s mouth. So, not that slow. Arthur, for his part, just tried to keep up, letting himself give into the passion he’s felt for this man for _centuries_. He sucked on Merlin’s tongue, took a breath, and bit Merlin’s bottom lip—which made Merlin gasp into his mouth and twist his fingers in Arthur’s hair. Arthur was growing dizzy with the sensation of it all, when Merlin pulled away, but stayed close, their foreheads still touching. They were both panting and smiling. Arthur couldn’t remember ever feeling this happy.

“So…I’ll take that as your reciprocation?” Arthur teased.

Merlin rolled his eyes. “You’re such a dollophead.”

“But I’m _you’re_ dollophead.”

He smiled at Arthur, eyes bright. “Yes, you certainly are.”

Arthur, purely on instinct, took Merlin’s left hand in his right, and brought it up to his fingers to kiss it. “Oh my gosh, you are such a _sap_ ,” Merlin lamented, but he was still smiling.

“Oh, look who’s talking,” Arthur retorted, “Mister I-have-to-leave-the-room-every-time-this-song-plays-because-it-makes-me-think-of-my-eternal-love-for-my-soulmate.”

“Soulmate?” Merlin raised his eyebrows, the corner of his mouth quirked up. “You sound awfully confident about that.”

“Merlin, if there’s any sense to the universe,” Arthur replied, “I’d say there’s a one hundred percent chance we’re soulmates. Just logically speaking.” He started to lean in for another kiss.

“Logically speaking?” Merlin repeated, smiling as Arthur came closer.

“Yes, logically speaking,” he confirmed against Merlin’s lips. The kiss was short and sweet, not rushed and frenzied like before. Calmer. More self-assured. After it, Arthur sang softly against Merlin’s lips, “ _I’ll love you for a thousand more.”_

And if Merlin thought it was too sappy, he didn’t say so.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, why not leave a comment for my poor, suffering ego? <3


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